


chill pills (make it better)

by xShieru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship Study, Self-Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xShieru/pseuds/xShieru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto takes notice of Kuroo’s pupils that are blown so wide he cannot see the color of the other’s eyes, he puts two and two together and the answer comes to him as the most natural thing on the universe.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>'He’s so fucking high right now.'</i></p><p> </p><p>And at that very moment, it’s the hottest thing ever.<br/>-<br/>An AU about realizing what you want, letting go and growing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chill pills (make it better)

**Author's Note:**

> meme pose fucking university. man. fics lie. so i tried to picture the REAL sides of forced adulthood.  
> shout-out to that guy who was my kuroo inspiration. we're gonna date one day just u wait, bro. also vika who should really stop taking drugged up sangria juice packs from stoners. don't trust anyone at music fests.  
> in advance, i apologize for everything here, it might fuck some people over so proceed with caution also you dont need to know if i ever got high or not. i can't believe that i typed this out in between the exams. what a good life im leading. dont be me.  
> listen to 'hey jude' by the beatles for that extra feel effect.

There‘s something deeply off about this place.

The sun shines differently through the windows, and last time he’s checked, he didn’t have windows on that side - but hell, he’s had a weird night so maybe he shouldn’t be questioning it to begin with. Of course, it’d do him good to open his eyes, but the bed he’s in feels too nice to even consider the idea of movement. Plus his legs that are sticking out from underneath the scratchy sheets feel cold. He retracts them into the comfort zone and cocoons himself in this heaven while trying to escape reality and the upcoming headache he feels beating down in the back of his head. Fucking sucks.

Another ten minutes pass. And then some more.

Of course, the illusion of comfort doesn’t last too long as he feels something - or rather _someone -_ shift by his side. His heart plummets down to his frozen toes and Bokuto Koutarou jumps up from his pseudo-safe haven to frantically look around.

As expected, he has no memory of this place.

It’s a motel, he assumes, judging by the looks of it. The air is too stiff and smells oddly like sex and hungover people. No surprise there either. The person beside him, however, is.

  
Koutarou can only make out the tip of ruffled black hair peeking through the sheets that have coffee stains on them. He doesn’t dare to move when another groan reaches his all-hearing ears and he jolts back as a tanned arm shoots out from under the covers to pat at the nightstand. It grapples around a bit, fingers patting for something, but eventually the guy gives up. The limb flops down and silence follows. Bokuto hears a snore.

He deems it safe to check out his one-night stand who is still conveniently hidden out of sight. Carefully, Bokuto leans in closer and lifts the corner of the sheet, heart hammering in the back of his throat. The moment of truth.

He feels like crying tears of relief when he sees the sleeping face of Kuroo Tetsurou but at the same time -

_Oh. My. God._

He boned Kuroo Tetsurou. He did it. He _finally_ did it.

It was horrible.

Depression and uncertainty heavy on his shoulders, Bokuto sits back on the balls of his feet and buries his fingers in his floppy hair. He feels guilty almost. Guilty for what he did last night, he realizes, as he recalls some blurry things. He’s an asshole and he should apologize but the guy is sleeping considerably soundly and he doesn’t have it in him to wake the other up.

So he does the next best thing an asshole like him can do. He gathers his clothes and once he’s done pulling on his jeans – without falling even once or even throwing up in his mouth a little – he rummages through the nightstand's drawers in search of something to write with. _Convenient_ , he thinks, as he finds sticky notes and a pen. The owners of the place must have taken situations like these into consideration, relieving assholes like him of goodbyes or in most cases – explanations.

He thinks about what to write. He’s never been good with words, written or spoken.

'Thank you for a good time? Was it even good to begin with because I don’t remember most of it? Sorry for being an asshole and fleeing even after all I did, and possibly trampling all over your feelings in the process?'

Nah, sounds cheesy.

So instead he writes down his phone number and crosses out the pathetic sentence of _call me_ , changing it to text me. He doesn’t want to pressure the guy. In fact, he doesn’t have much hope he’ll ever call. Or want to see Bokuto’s mug in front of him ever again.

He places it on the pillow he’s been clinging to for a few hours as he slept away his high, neon pink contrasting against white. Seems almost unfair.

Doesn’t feel right to leave him like this.

But Bokuto isn’t sure he’s ready for the morning-after conversations and he has a good reason as to why when he checks his phone that has twelve missed calls from Yukie and opens three text messages.

_where r u_

_if you don’t get your ass to the campus by 8 am im going to the police station_

_btw you’re single_

He deletes the texts with a defeated sigh. Of course, _now_ Bokuto knows that something _had to_ have happened last night, and his best guess is that he had ditched his group of friends - along with his girlfriend - in order to frolic away into the night and wreak havoc with Kuroo Tetsurou. He thinks if he should be feeling sad. He’s slightly surprised when he feels that he’s not. If anything, he’s been relieved of some sort of burden. They had this break-up coming for a long time now.

Well, at least he spared her the trip to the police station. Its only 7:10 AM after all. One look out the window told him that he wasn’t too far away from the campus.

Kuroo mutters something in his sleepy state and that’s enough encouragement for Bokuto to take his mud-stained backpack and move out. As he sends one last look behind him and closes the door, he’s uncertain as to whether he heard the word ‘coward’ being muttered in his direction or it was just his heavy subconscious weighing him down and berating him for doing this.

 

* * *

 

Yukie looks relieved when she sees him, judging by the miniscule change of emotions on her otherwise constantly bored-looking face. Her eyes shine with hurt when Bokuto scratches the back of his head and tries to meek out some sort of half-assed apology. She knows, for a fact, that he doesn’t regret leaving her behind last night, just as much as he does. The gigantic hickey the size of Tokyo (that he wasn’t aware of until later on) punctured by teeth marks and located just below his jaw line, was a dead giveaway. She tells him to save it, voice unwavering, and punches him in the stomach. Hard. Bokuto guesses that he deserved that, too. Some passersby stare at the scene unfolding before them but don’t interfere.

She stomps away but not before throwing the small owl keychain, that he had given her as a birthday present, on the ground and hisses a “get well soon” over her shoulder. It just makes it all that much worse because he knows that she still cares. And he cares just as much. He doesn’t like hurting people, intentionally or not.

He realizes that he’s been breaking the asshole records today - and it was only morning - so might as well let it happen. He whines his roommate Komiyan out of their shared room after reassuring that he’s fine and he isn’t sporting a secret stab wound under his dirty hoodie, no matter how shitty he looks. He can’t be bothered to eat or even drag himself to shower. Without much emotion, Bokuto checks himself in the mirror after peeling his clothes off, regards the multiple marks across his chest and thighs. Kinky bastard, that Kuroo. How expected.

He tries not to think too much about the fact that the hickeys on his chest form a slightly crooked heart, intentional or not.

Bokuto needs sleep, craves it, but he spends at least an hour draining their emergency post-hangover water bottles and tossing around in his bed, only one name stuck in his head. Eventually he falls out in a tumble of sheets and as he stares at the ceiling, he recalls last night and goes down the memory lane like it is appropriate for a confused twenty-one year old student.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time he sees Kuroo, it's at the compulsory computer classes. He hates them with passion, mostly because they take away his Thursday mornings and he doesn’t see the point of them when he’s studied IT in high school. His teacher had hated him for reasons unknown and so he would skip that stupid class out of spite. Of course it all had come back to haunt him and he would’ve resigned to it all – it had to be done and stalling was just putting away the inevitable - but Konoha’s hardly-contained smirks and Komiyan’s snickers plus constant poking at Bokuto’s IT failure at the entrance exams, made him hate this course even more. Not to mention the careful attendance tracking. That one thing he hated and he couldn’t escape it.

Kuroo usually sat to his right, looking as though he really didn’t belong there, and was the perfect student while Bokuto kept fucking up on basic things - and while he tried to fix them, the lecture would end and that alone made him curse and bite his fist. Also he could’ve sworn that Kuroo was enjoying his suffering as he watched Bokuto's attempts at trying to eat his own fist out of anger time and time again, an amused tilt gracing his thin eyebrows and a playful twinkle in those brown eyes.

Bokuto didn’t pay much attention to him, just tried his hardest to get a passable grade without having to repeat the dumb course.

And, _of course_ , while Bokuto barely slipped through without any remedial tasks or retaking the exam, Kuroo graduated a top of their class. Why the guy failed the IT quiz at the beginning of the semester was beyond him.

After that, Kuroo kept flashing in and out of Bokuto’s sight, sometimes showing up at the classes they shared – as Bokuto had later noticed, the other’s attendance was shit though his grades never dropped below average. Sometimes at local bars that Bokuto had frequented along with the friends that he had easily made over the course of the first week. Sometimes they’d pass each other by in the middle of the night, exchanging cloudy looks, their respective friends dragging them along in different directions as they were too intoxicated to walk. Kuroo would stumble along, heavily leaning on some guy with a bad hair job, winking at Bokuto who was _totally fine and I don’t need your help, Aki-chan!_ licking at his lower lip, leering.

 _Modern romance_ , Bokuto had thought, face strangely flushed and his pants just a tad too tight around his hips.

They kept running into each other whenever they were at their worst – appearance, mentality or situation-wise - like that one time when the student council had organized a welcome party for the newbies in a form of a camp that resided somewhere deep in the woods surrounded by mountains. Back then, Kuroo still seemingly floated along with different crowds, no people to call close to him, whereas Bokuto already knew at least one third of the people that were camping out, unashamedly joining in when they gathered by many bonfires, singing. That’s where he had met Yukie. She had a pretty singing voice and a prettier face, features usually kept impassive, but when she smiled as Bokuto complimented her and dropped the roasted marshmallow on his shorts, distracted by her, it made his heart flutter pleasantly and reminded him of the past.

Kuroo wasn’t on his mind back then, perfect Kuroo with his perfect grades and his carefully hidden imperfections that shined through when a sudden storm had hit and the wind was strong enough to rip the students’ tents away from the ground. They had been ushered inside small cabins deeper in the forest; smelling of stale air from being locked up for so long, windows rattling from the strength of the wind as it howled outside, thunder rolling over black clouds.

It didn’t ruin their mood though, the only thing on their minds was how to squeeze in so they’d have enough space to move around freely without accidentally elbowing someone in the face. They had played cards, some guys played music and Bokuto tried very hard not to look too much at the lone figure curled up on a ratty mattress that lied below one of the windows. Kuroo’s black hood was drawn over his head and his grip on his knees was a little too tight, knuckles whitening out over tanned skin. Bokuto had wondered if the guy was afraid of thunderstorms or the amount of people in his personal space, and he had nonchalantly and totally not suspiciously guided his friends to the window for the next round of poker.

As Bokuto later found out, he completely sucked at it - all of the gummy worms that served as chips taken away from him by the ravenous players - and he kept glancing at Kuroo to make sure he was okay. He had turned down their offer to play, but seemingly relaxed now that he had someone around, quietly observing the game over Bokuto’s shoulder in mild-curiosity. In the middle of it, while everyone was too busy looking at the hand they’ve been dealt, Kuroo had leaned in closer and whispered some instructions to Bokuto that helped him win one round.

When he realized that it was the first actual conversation that they had, other than the usual ‘hey’ and ‘see ya’ exchanged between them, Bokuto felt giddy and turned around so he could face the guy properly and thank him. He was happy to find Kuroo sleeping soundly, head lolling slightly to the side – a perfect image of peace. Feeling the confidence overflowing, Bokuto had risked during the next turn and lost all he had left but somehow he didn’t care as much as he normally would have. He was a rather sore loser, after all.

Though he did feel just a tad disappointed when it was time to pack and leave, and Kuroo was nowhere in sight. Yukie had informed him that the guy had left with the earlier bus. Bokuto simply shrugged the gnawing feelings away, perfectly content to sit by the girl’s side, after she had invited his small group of friends to join hers in the back of the bus. She borrowed a ukulele and played cheerful jams the rest of the way to the main building of their college and Bokuto helped her carry her stuff to the bus stop, earning a phone number in return.

Later on they’re known as a couple – she has chatty friends and Bokuto’s aren’t much better – and he doesn’t see Kuroo for two weeks. He forgets about him.

When he does see him, surrounded by people, he’s glad that the guy made friends. He seems like a good person and he shouldn’t be alone, is what Bokuto thinks, and approaches him to say hello.

Kuroo says nothing in return, shooting him an unimpressed glance. Bokuto decides that maybe he didn’t hear him and moves along because he’s late for a lecture and cannot be bothered to stick around for long. He heard they’d have a quiz that day.

However, he doesn’t miss the strange looks that are shot his way by the messy-haired man’s friends. He can feel them on his back as he quickens his pace.

 

* * *

 

 

One day, Kuroo shows up at an Economics lecture and he looks like he’s seen better days in life. It’s not much of a surprise, Bokuto feels quite the same - after all, midterms are slowly approaching and he has to force his lazy ass to study if he wants to get somewhere in life. Usually Yukie distracts him for hours and he thinks about how pretty her smile is, how much he’d like to be with her and reassure her that everything is going to be alright. He’s not surprised to find out that she is auditioning for the local choir despite already being a part of their college’s and she’s stressing too much while trying to figure out how to divide her time between studying and hobbies properly. She’s mostly afraid that she won’t make it. Bokuto thinks otherwise.

He often texts her that, but gets no replies. If he does, they’re usually in the middle of the night as she apologizes for not checking her phone. Bokuto doesn’t blame her but sometimes, especially during stress-inducing times such as these, it makes him just a little upset. Yukie is a good girlfriend, the first one he’s had in a while, and she’s rather low-maintenance. She eats as much as he does though, so Bokuto’s wallet suffers more often than not, but she doesn’t ask for any special attention and doesn’t demand to see him 24/7 and that works just fine between them. They’re content with seeing each other once a week during Biomed, or that’s what Bokuto tells himself anyways.

It kicks him to his dejected land.

He thumbs at the screen of his phone, its glass cracked, checking snapchat – the usual meme-related stuff from Konoha and one from Oikawa, a photo of Ushijima Wakatoshi with crude pen-drawn additions and a message ‘made him beautiful /winking emojis’ attached to it – when his vision is obscured by the all too familiar bedhead that he had grown accustomed to over the months. Kuroo sits in the row before him and it’s certainly not Bokuto’s imagination, but he looks thinner. Only then, he notices that Kuroo’s friend – Yaku, if he remembers correctly – was sitting right there under his nose as well and _oh my,_ he really is out of it today.

He looks at Kuroo’s profile, noting the bags under his eyes, and was his hair always that messy? Bokuto's thoroughly ignored as the black-haired man focuses solely on his friend, talking about last night and swiftly promising to never do something again. Yaku huffs and nags until Kuroo slumps forward, head colliding with the wooden table with an audible bang, drawing some attention. Their professor walks in a moment later, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand, and asks who wants to start their presentation. His eyes briefly land on Kuroo who is still unmoving, face-planting the desk, hands buried in his hair as if he's trying to disappear but someone takes mercy and offers to go first.

Bokuto zones out. Presentations never kept his attention for long.

Instead he focuses on the man before him and without even realizing it, starts to analyze his appearance. The gray hoodie with their college’s insignia emblazoned on the back hangs just a little too big on him. Its hood is stained with grass marks, smudged with spots of dirt, as thought the guy had been dragged over a field, gotten himself into a wrestling match or just buried himself under fallen leaves to sleep that night. It sags down low enough to reveal the column of Kuroo’s tanned neck, incredibly gracious and oh-so-appealing to stare at. Bokuto lets his eyes roam it unashamedly, the grip he has on his pen tightening, plastic creaking, threatening to break if more pressure is applied. He smells like a post-hangover, a scent of vodka and that sourness of stomach content. It does nothing to deter Bokuto’s inspections and when Kuroo rubs at his neck, long fingers massaging at the stiffened muscles he bites his lip and his leg hits the table. Hard.

Startled, Kuroo whirls around and meets his gaze for the first time in a long while, eyes wide and red rimmed. When Bokuto finally gets a good look at him, amber eyes roaming the small imperfections of that otherwise attractive face, he takes notice of Kuroo’s pupils that are blown so wide he cannot see the color of the other’s eyes, he puts two and two together and the answer comes to him as the most natural thing on the universe.

_'He’s so fucking high right now.'_

And at that very moment, it’s the hottest thing ever.

Kuroo knows that he _knows_ , cheeks coloring a faint raspberry and turns away in shame, seeking comfort in the desk once more. Yaku smacks the back of his head.

It was the first time Bokuto had seen the other fuck up this bad during a lecture, as Kuroo's name is called out at the front of the auditorium, asking for his presentation. He staggers awkwardly, motor skills alone are obviously an overbearing challenge to him. He zones out in the middle of his speech when he looks too long at some faraway point on the wall and he avoids the light of the projector like vampires avoid holy water. And it’s then that Bokuto decides, that he would fuck that.

It’s a _problem._

 

* * *

 

Yukie is the one texting him now as he’s too out of it to reply, mindblown by the rediscovery of what he thought was his long since buried bisexual side. He hates the idea of replying to Yukie as he finally realizes why he liked her so much. He is so fucking gay and he clings to the past and it will haunt him. Forever.

Komiyan buys ice-cream and hears him out. Even plays some good music to fit the mood. He’s not as grossed out by the idea of Bokuto liking dick more than the supple curves of a fine lady, namely Yukie, but he’s still uncomfortable and leaves him be to think over his woes. Bokuto doesn’t think his roommie will tell his girlfriend that he wants to fuck Kuroo Tetsurou. Haruki’s too smart to ruin a friend’s relationship like that. If he truly wanted to do it, he'd make it more interesting. Not that he'd ever do something like that. Probably.

Bokuto knows that Komi fancies Yukie, it’s obvious in the way he smiles when she’s around and ignores him whenever he tries to strike up a conversation with her, but Bokuto pretends he doesn’t see it. It’s easier that way.

Maybe they should date. After all, he and Yukie didn’t have much in common other than their shared love for volleyball. She was the only reason he hadn’t been kicked out of the college’s team. He really didn’t want to skip those practices but he sucked at studying, so he had no choice, and since Yukie was the manager, she always put in good word on his behalf. Bokuto had lost all hopes of becoming a regular, silently cursing Ushijima under his breath and pitying Oikawa for being the guy’s setter.

Volleyball brings him back to high school, to the times when all was well and he was a happy captain bossing around his beloved teammates. Everything was so simple. Growing up fucking sucks, Bokuto had mused, taking another lick of strawberry and chocolate chip frozen goodness. Back then, he could goof around all he wanted. Back then, there was no tension between him and Komi.

Back then... He had a stable, loving relationship.

With a sigh, he curled up on the bed, feeling that familiar ache in his heart that gripped him like a vice whenever he thought back to the times he had Akaashi Keiji in his life. He had gotten over it, no longer spent every waking minute moping around and low-key planning the quickest and least painful way to end himself, but it still hurt. He loved Keiji more than the world itself and when the beautiful boy had left for England to pursue his long-term dream of studying Media design and becoming a photographer, Bokuto was crushed. Their move came faster than he thought it would, and when it was the time to say goodbye, they broke it off, fully knowing that they couldn’t maintain a long-distance relationship. It would only end up hurting them in the long run, and whereas Akaashi had no plans of returning to Japan, Bokuto had none of leaving it.

He simply kissed the boy one last time, putting all he had into it, promising to stay in contact.

Two months later they stopped talking. The time difference was a huge catalyst in that, not to mention the workload on Akaashi’s shoulders was more than intense. Project upon project piled up, deadlines arrived and they no longer had the chance to talk.

They did send emails to each other on major holidays like Christmas and whatnot, and happy birthday cards. Never more than that. None of ‘how are you’s and ‘tell me what’s good’s, just a simple ‘hope you’re well’ at the end of every mail. They both knew that talking to each other after all this time would only reopen some wounds and pour salt in them.

So they didn’t.

After Akaashi, Bokuto had sworn to himself that he would never pursue another guy again; the effort it took wasn’t worth it in the long run. And so came Tetsurou with his lidded eyes and lazy half-smiles, more akin to smirks. Tetsurou with addiction problems and a perfect face marked by the exhaustion that reflected in those bottomless eyes and chewed at lips. He’s every bit of sloppy and casual, a perfect mix even, while managing to stand out, and honestly, it’s all that Bokuto ever wanted. What he wants in the present anyways.

He thinks that maybe Akaashi would be glad to find out that Bokuto’s moved on. He even considered breaking the 'no talking' rule and asking Keiji for advice, but decided against it. He just wanted to reassure himself that at least one person would approve of his choice in a potential love-interest. Maybe that was too much - sex-interest sounded better, because as fine as Kuroo was, he knew little to nothing about him. Then again, same happened with Yukie and no one gave a shit. Yukie was Keiji to him, _Keiji Keiji Keiji_ he had constantly thought, feeling that familiar ache in his bones whenever he looked at her, yet those thoughts were calls of his longing heart rather than his brain, so no wonder it took him a while to realize why he had felt so attracted to the girl.

Kuroo was different. Kuroo was everything _but Keiji_ and it was _perfect_ \- it was _more than fine_ because he appreciated that uniqueness aswell, floored by the fact that he didn’t think of this person as some sort of replacement.

But the question remained – _did Kuroo want him back_?

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out much much later, Kuroo wants him. _A lot._

 

* * *

 

It happens at one of those basic parties. Bokuto had been drinking with Oikawa the entire day, toasting to the end of the exams. It started out at the brunet’s room and then transferred to volleyball club’s 'unofficial lunch meeting' and carried on way into the evening. They had a karaoke contest, in which, not surprisingly, Oikawa had absolutely rocked at, flooring his gaping teammates. However, when it was his turn again, he moved the mic to rest by his thigh mid-song. Oikawa stopped the playful idol-like dance, hips no longer sashaying and stared off into the distance. The music kept on going as he suddenly announced that all of them will be going to someone’s party. Somewhere.

No one really cared because they were too drunk and _sure_ , if you started partying, you had to go out with a bang. That was a philosophy they carried.

Even if it meant crashing someone’s house party.

 _It’s cool_ , Oikawa had reassured him while he and Bokuto were the last ones to stumble out. Bokuto could smell the other’s sake-scented breath against his lips and for a moment thought about how unfairly beautiful the curly-haired man was. Normally, he would’ve pushed him away, but they couldn’t properly walk without each other’s help, so yeah, go teamwork. He breathed slowly as they stared each other down and after some time Oikawa spoke up again:

“I-I know whose house it iii—“ he turned away for a second, stifling a small burp. Bokuto frowned in slight disgust and considered throwing the drunken load off his shoulders, but if the guy broke his ass, he’d never hear the end of it. “’Scuse me. Anyways, Ushiwaka’s gonna be there, so let’s—let’s put laxatives in his drink. Yea.”

Bokuto snorted, amazed. “Don’t tell me you actually planned this—oh my fucking god, you did. You’re a genius.” he cackled as Oikawa presented him a pack of good old intestine wreckers, a devilish smile unbefitting the man _this intoxicated_ gracing his lips. Sounded like a good time.

And it was nice and all as they rang up some of their missing teammates, finding out that more than half of them were already at their destination and Bokuto fought back the urge to tell Akinori to not call Yukie. His shoulders sagged at the sound of her voice over the speaker, telling them that she was already there and _could you please bring Bokuto along, I haven’t seen him for days now—_

He took the beer from Akinori’s free hand, draining its contents in one gulp.

“I’m ready for you, babe! We are—we are gonna p-party and dance all you want!” he slurred into the speaker and she hung up.

 

* * *

 

The bass thrums in the back of his head to the point it causes a headache but it’s just an unpleasant buzz and nothing more. Bokuto thinks that he can still go. He’s not as wrecked as he wants to be. Yukie tries to talk to him about something Very Serious And Important, but he feels an urge to kiss her and gives into temptation. She doesn’t fight back, though she seems colder than usual and he can taste the champagne and spices of chips inside her mouth. He licks in deeper and considers dragging her into the nearest unoccupied room, but she has other plans. She looks around and whispers something to a girl with her hair tied back in a ponytail, the cut of her shirt low enough for Bokuto to appreciate the fine lacy bra that she’s wearing. Girls are pretty like that, he drunkenly musses, mesmerized by her breasts and how the lace accents them, not giving a shit that’s he’s literally looking down some girl’s shirt in front of his _girlfriend._

He only hopes she doesn’t notice.

The nameless girl says something in response and points to the direction of backyard, doors of terrace open. If he focuses, Bokuto can hear indie music playing and he’s glad that Yukie drags him in that direction. It’s obviously a chill zone, he notices, and his eyes drift to the faint lines of smoke illuminated by the decorative lights. He’s familiar with the scent that fills the air and he’s never known that Yukie had it in her.

She drags him to their group of friends and he says hello, not bothering to say anything about how Yukie sits cross-legged on the other side of Komi. Bokuto drops down and sprawls out like his limbs are jelly, appreciating the material of the plaid red blanket under his naked arms. He’s already reached the drunk toddler stage of rolling around on the ground and he looks up at the sky, head spinning. It’s a full moon and he squints his eyes hoping to see a dragon or a rabbit on it, but it’s his turn to take a hit and he forgets what he’s been doing, reaction slowing down considerably.

The round goes once, twice, thrice and he’s singing along to what he assumes are the Beatles. Yukie sends a desperate look his way when he starts conversing with people, slow and dragged out, and they laugh about the strange shape of the bush next to them. His eyelids drop heavy over his eyes, but he's content and so out of it, that he no longer feels the woes of adulthood kicking his ass. Komi’s high as a ceiling and he stares at Bokuto for five minutes until he remembers what he wanted to say.

“Kuroo is here, man. You should look behind the—" he laughs again, choking slightly, and so does Bokuto, because Komiyan’s laugh when he’s like this sounds like a motorboat for some reason, or maybe a donkey. “The bushies.”

‘The bushies’ divide the backyard in two and Bokuto thinks that, yeah, if there’s a better time to confront Kuroo about the boning business before the summer break and he inevitably has to go back home, it’s now. He gets up on unsteady feet, his friends gasping for air at his pathetic attempts to walk and he kisses Yukie on the cheek, impersonal, ruffles her hair, too. She blows her cheeks at him in a display of anger but he’s already turned away, ready to explore the unknown aka Bushies.

He’s never expected to find Kuroo this drugged up, but hell, not like he can complain. The guy is staring at the moon with a contemplative look on his face, and his forehead scrunches up at the sight of a wobbly Bokuto yelling a loud “whadup” as he shuffles closer.

They sit still and have a staring contest, getting cross-eyed. Eventually, Kuroo sighs, looking away. Bokuto frowns at the reaction. He’s acting too sober for this even though his eyes are red, pupils all over the place and he smells like weed.

“Well, you’re wrecked,” he says, all snark.

“Indeed I am, friend.” Bokuto replies with a shrug of his stiff shoulders, ignoring the man’s sigh of annoyance. He’s feeling good. “And I thought, h-hey, why not seek out Kuroo?”

The other tries to lean in to take a good look at his face and the slight movement is enough to betray that he’s just as wrecked as Bokuto feels. “Why?” he asks, honestly surprised and not one bit trusting.

It takes a few minutes for the shorter one to remember the question he’s been asked and he flops down on the grass, the sky an awful shade of purple. Whatever Oikawa had given him, was finally working. He was going on a trip. A trip to the Neverland, where he’d never have to grow up and think of ways to tell Kuroo that he wants him in bed and possibly in his life.

So like any other good citizen, he tries to bullshit his way out of it, but Kuroo is still sharp and he obscures Bokuto’s purple skies and blue moons and all he can see are the black holes that are Kuroo’s eyes. He wants to jump into them and swim. Drown in them. Literally. Shit, he’s turning _poetic_ , not a good thing to happen.

“You’re not making any sense.” Kuroo points out, face serious, and Bokuto giggles at that.

“Well yea. I’m _high_. What did ya expect?”

“How high? What did you take?”

He shrugs, grassblades tickling his forearms. He feels like he's melting into the ground, turning into a plant. “ _Sooooo_ high. ‘N I dunno. Didn’t check. Oink-kawa gave me some shit. Good shit. Works like a miracle. God, I feel awful.” Bokuto mutters and rubs his eyes, making stars burst beneath heavy eyelids.

Kuroo – he saw the exact number of three of them, and damn that’s a wet dream come true – continues to glower at him like he’s a lost and pathetic case. And maybe he is. He doesn’t know how to act like an adult. He has a girlfriend he doesn't love and a half-completed degree in something he doesn’t even like and shattered dreams of volleyball tournaments and fame and weddings, but his knee injury fucked up his chances to get a career. He’s a _broken broken broken_ man and he just wants so many things that he cannot have.

And he wants Kuroo _so much_ that it physically _hurts_ , but something holds him back, something that sounds like Akaashi Keiji and the words ' _I’m leaving for England, Koutarou_ ’. He can’t trust his own heart or instincts and Kuroo lays down next to him, puts something in his own mouth, a pill that eventually melts away along with his insecurities and they hold hands as they trip and think about their lives and the moon and dragons and rabbits and Neverlands.

Bokuto laces their fingers together and when he feels well enough to speak normally, he moves his head to the side, only to find Kuroo looking at him with a mesmerized gleam in his eyes and he _knows_ , he knows what it means, he knows, _he knows—_

Kuroo looks at him like Bokuto used to look at Keiji and words slip out of his mouth, as his eyelashes tremble and he uses Kuroo’s question against him. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know how to love someone in a way that isn’t – “ those thin eyebrows slant down and his companion searches his dazed brain for a good response, as he looks away from Bokuto momentarily, inspecting their laced fingers. Kuroo ends up waving his hand between them and the movement looks ridiculously slow. “This.”

“Why _me_?”

“Dunno. If I had the answer to that I wouldn’t be at some unknown party getting toked up.”

“Cuz I’m here?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you—do you _like_ me?” Bokuto blurts out, face feeling way too hot for some reason and he tightens his grip on Kuroo’s fingers, earning a squeeze in return. He's awarded with an intense gaze that sets his heart and spine on fire, jolts him into a sudden bout of awareness. He asked too soon, Bokuto still doesn’t know how he himself feels, but he has to know.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says and laughs. “Fuckin stupid coz you—you have a _girl_ and all, so what chance does my fine ass stand against a beautiful lady?”

“I- It’s complicated.” Bokuto never thought that he’d use this dramatic sentence in his life, but here he is. Then again, he never thought he’d end up on the ground at an unknown college party, receiving a confession from a guy who was well on his way over the rainbow and beyond, holding hands all the while. It seems too unreal, too – _perfect_ , actually.

He starts laughing and Kuroo tries to draw his hand away, certain that the object of his affections is laughing at him, but he won't let him. “But there's a huge chance. Also, that’s so fucking gay. I love it.” Bokuto smiles, trying to convey all he feels and those black pits light up with stars and sparkles and he feels giddy when Kuroo drags himself closer to lean over him again.

They’re still holding hands, Bokuto dully notes, but doesn’t dare to look anywhere else but Kuroo, not minding that they were in a public place.

“Yea. It is.” Kuroo replies after a while and Bokuto finally gets to feel those chapped warm lips against his, feeling like they were set on fire. His stomach squeezes painfully and he imagines himself letting go of the past, of Keiji and Yukie, and everything that held him back. Maybe growing up is only good for this, he thinks, as he traces the seam of Kuroo’s lips with his tongue and finally tastes him, feeling warm. The lack of air makes him trippy, but hell, it's not like he minds. He lets himself run his hands through that messy hair as the warm wind of a summer night brushes over them, the Beatles still playing in the background. Mid-kiss Bokuto starts humming and Kuroo laughs against his mouth and flops on top of him and they laugh and laugh and laugh, not a care in their worlds.

“Heyyyy Judeeee, don’t makeeee it baaad!” Kuroo sings loudly and lifts himself up on unsteady arms so he doesn’t crush Bokuto.

“Just take a saaaad song and make it betterrrr!” the other joins in, laughing through his words, broken English earning some giggling from the other side of the bushes. That makes him snort even more. Even the bushes are laughing.

Somehow, singing all the while, they get up and lean against each other for support. They make their way through the backyard, the overstuffed house, disregarding the stares and the intense competition of beer pong unfolding. They walk and walk and Kuroo guides them through the park, and while Bokuto just really wants to slam Kuroo against the nearest tree and ravage him, he’s holding back. They do make out heatedly, bark roughly pressing into Kuroo’s spine as they stumble around, tripping over roots and laughing against each other’s mouths.

“You got no chill.” Bokuto says, after a while, when he feels a hand in his boxers, wrapping around his painful arousal. "Like zero chill."

“Good thing I got chill pills then. Fancy one?” Kuroo mutters against his neck, mouth too focused on the task at hand.

The silver-haired man can only nod, not comprehending what was being said to him, breath ragged, and damn does Kuroo smell good, a scent of pines and citrus _and and—_

And he gives Bokuto whatever he’s had in his mouth, shoves it in with his tongue, and after that –

 _Nothing._ It’s too dark to remember.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto wakes up feeling worse than he’s ever had in his entire life and no hangovers can compare. He didn’t catch himself falling asleep in this weirdass position, calves cramped and placed on the bed while he was sprawled out in the sheets on the sticky floor. He doesn’t know what to do to cure post-drug haze so he has to wait it out. His phone is spammed with text messages from Oikawa about how the entire campus is buzzing that he and Kuroo are a thing. There’s a photo attached to one of the texts demanding him for serious answers – with a lot of exclamation marks – and he winces when he sees himself making out with Kuroo on the ground, Oikawa standing a meter behind them, fingers curled in peace signs. Shit.

_Fuck._

He tries to fight back the urge to throw his phone against the wall, it’s already cracked and he doesn’t have the money for a replacement, when there’s another buzz and he pinches the bridge of his nose, promising himself to set Oikawa on fire if it’s one more gossip-thristy text.

_We need to meet._

Unknown number.

Of course.

But Bokuto realizes that it can’t go on like this and he has to confront it. He can’t run away forever, not when Kuroo might share classes with him next year too. They’d inevitably run into each other. Better solve it now.

He types out his reply and looks for his towel. He stinks and he really needs a shower if he wants to leave a good impression instead of looking guilty just like he feels.

_ok_

_where tho?_

The reply with the meeting place comes when he stands in front of a mirror and gels up his hair, trying not to stare at the purple hickey too much. His pupils look ridiculously bloated and he thinks that it’s ironic. There’s nothing ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ about this in any way. He just looks _pathetic._

 

* * *

 

They meet up in the parking lot near Kuroo’s building. It’s deserted and hides them quite well from the curious gazes of other students that were following them the entire way. This is the first time Bokuto doesn’t like attention and he doesn’t want to think about how he had damaged his reputation. Just like how he doesn’t want to think about Oikawa making ‘tfw u thirdwheel' memes with him posing for the camera in a way that he thinks is very cute, but this time taken from a different angle so that Bokuto and Kuroo are making out in the background.

They don’t talk, only exchange awkward _"hey’s"_ , eyes lingering on their respective marks. Bokuto has never thought that he was much of a biter, but apparently drugs make his inner starved beast come out and he feels sorry for Kuroo because those must really hurt.

It’s awkward between them and they have nothing to say, so Kuroo takes upon himself the 'responsible adult' role and clears his throat. “Look, I won't force you to rememeber last night and I won't judge you for it. You – you didn’t know what you were doing.” he trails off and shuffles around, sneakers kicking a stray pebble and Bokuto wants to tell him that it’s not true, that he’s wanted this even before, but remains quiet because it seems like the other isn’t done talking.

“I—yeah... you, forgot this.” Kuroo keeps his gaze firmly set on the ground and with flushed cheeks gives Bokuto back his belt. No wonder he felt like his pants were too loose on him when he was making his way home this morning. “Yeah, _uh_ , that’s about it. I just thought it’d be—“

Bokuto stares, his eyes hurt because of the sun and its midday, and honestly, he just wants to be in the shade and hopefully asleep with no headaches or a weight on his mind and heart. He thinks that its time to grow up. He knows, for a fact, that he had let go of Keiji and Yukie the moment he kissed _those damned peeling lips_ that look bloody by now and Kuroo keeps worrying at them and it’s just _distracting_. Kuroo is distracting like this, weak and defenseless, and not at all brave or cocky like he usually seems, but so is Bokuto. They’re just two confused guys.

“We could try to be friends.” Bokuto says and wants to smack his own head for that coz Kuroo glances up at him, something broken in those eyes and his shoulders sag visibly as he scratches at the back of his head.

“Uh. Yeah. That’s – that’s _uh_. Good,” his finger scratches at the spot near his eyes and he firmly denies Bokuto any sort of eye contact. “Cool. Sooo, I’ll be going now. Have a nice summer—“

He won’t let him flee. _Damn it, he’ll use the belt to tie him down if he has to,_ Bokuto thinks bitterly, because suddenly he feels like _he’s the one being cheated here_ and so he grabs the thin wrist, earning a small hiss. They look like they were scrubbed raw and Bokuto really doesn’t enjoy thinking about how nasty he is.

“What I mean is that.”

What _does_ he mean, exactly?

Kuroo sighs and scoffs, finally mustering up the courage to face him head on. “I fucking told you that it’s fine, you don’t have to force yourself to like me back. I _get it_ , alright? You have a girlfriend and shit, so just leave me the fuck alone –“

“I like you too, alright!” Bokuto yells back, frustration apparent in his voice. It cracks embarrassingly at the end because his throat is raw and his tongue is dry and he’s never drinking Oikawa’s 'special juice' or whatever the fuck he calls it. “It’s just that it’s too fucking sudden, because, _damn it_ , one moment I have a _girlfriend_ and then the next –“ he lifts Kuroo’s wrist between their faces, grip loose but tight enough to deny escape. “ _This_ happens. The hell do you expect from me!? To jump into your loving arms? To swoon like you’re the knight in shining armor? I haven’t – I haven’t been in a proper relationship since _forever_ , I can’t just… accept you. Not right now. It needs time, okay. _Time._ ” Bokuto’s chest heaves and he’s the one having a staredown with the ground now, eyebrows furrowed and one eyelid twitching. He feels like crying but his eyes are unnaturally dry.

And then Kuroo is tilting his head up and kissing him, the press of his lips determined. Bokuto kisses back, lets his musings and desperation to spill over and he thinks that, yeah. Yeah, he can _definitely_ give this a shot. He can learn about Kuroo. He can learn about him, small things, like how he knew that Keiji used to smile when he’d suddenly drop out of a tree and yell ‘surprise kiss!’ and how he knows that Yukie smiles – _smiled_ – when he was too mesmerized by her singing and godly guitar playing skills. He can learn about Kuroo and then they will properly be in love. Kuroo helps him grow while managing to bring out his childish side and that's what Bokuto needs right now to feel alive. To feel good. To make it through this period of his life.

“It’s fine.” Kuroo mutters against his lips and the two of them must look ridiculous with the stoner looks that they have to them. “It’s all damn fine, I just. I don’t want to like you like this. Not anymore.” He whispers and Bokuto still feels like shit, he’s never meant for the guy to resort to drugs because of his stupid ass and he’ll fix it. He’ll make it right because he likes Kuroo.

And Kuroo likes him back.

And Oikawa... Well, he thinks he can forgive him, when suddenly he hears ‘Hey Jude’ play from the faraway corner of the building and his teammates are there, “secretly” peeking at them. Konoha gets pushed from behind the corner when they have a small scramble over the best view, but everyone quickly drags him back and Bokuto sees Ushijima flashing a thumbs up their way, a passive, ever-present look on his face as he gets dragged out of sight as well.

Kuroo starts laughing, and honestly? All is _well._


End file.
